


Killing Me Softly

by JoiningJoice



Category: Banana Fish
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkward First Times, Introspection, Kissing, Lots of thinking and overthinking, M/M, Manga timeline so it's the 90's, Non-Explicit Sex, Non-Linear Narrative, Power Bottom Ash Lynx, Sub Top Eiji Okumura, They're dumb and they're in love and it's all that matters, you can pry this headcanon from my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 14:30:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15317520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoiningJoice/pseuds/JoiningJoice
Summary: Sometimes, after a positive reaction from Ash or when a song he actually knows comes up, Eiji starts singing. Sometimes he mutters the melody with his lips closed, sometimes he goes into full singing mode with his choppy english. - You like this song? -, Ash asks, once again distracted from his task; Eiji always nods vigorously. He loves every song he knows, because each one reminds him of Ash.Ash smiles, then; he stretches and says: - I'll buy you the CD, then. -, and it doesn't even matter that they don't have a CD player. But if he's in a good mood, if he likes the song too and he wants to see Eiji's smile widen, then he goins him by singing the parts of the song he knows best.Eiji thinks Ash's voice is beautiful. He thinks everything about him is beautiful.





	Killing Me Softly

  
  


 

  
  


There's a radio in the apartment, an old piece of antiquery that doesn't even get frequency most of the time. Eiji's favorite game is leaving it on the whole day, trying to recognize the few songs they get; up until then, though, his knowledge turned out to be even poorer than expected – maybe due to the fact that the few stations the radio gets broadcast decade old songs that not even Ash manages to recognize.

That's his favorite game, and the sentence he always repeats is: - I don't know this song. -, whispering, afraid to annoy him by showing his deficiencies; and each time Ash interrupts whatever he was doing to raise his gaze into the emptiness in front of him and listen. After a few moments lost in that personal reflection he goes back to the object of his attentions and answers: - I don't know either. -, or: - It's that song from that singer, Eiji, how could you possibly never heard of it? -, never really showing any sign of annoyance despite his words.

Sometimes, after a positive reaction from Ash or when a song he actually knows comes up, Eiji starts singing. Sometimes he mutters the melody with his lips closed, sometimes he goes into full singing mode with his choppy english. - You like this song? -, Ash asks, once again distracted from his task; Eiji always nods vigorously. He loves every song he knows, because each one reminds him of Ash.

Ash smiles, then; he stretches and says: - I'll buy you the CD, then. -, and it doesn't even matter that they don't have a CD player. But if he's in a good mood, if he likes the song too and he wants to see Eiji's smile widen, then he goins him by singing the parts of the song he knows best.

Eiji thinks Ash's voice is beautiful. He thinks everything about him is beautiful.

  
  


\- I don't know this song. -

Ash's index finger leaves the curve of Eiji's nose and falls towards his mouth, stopping right over his upper lip. He freezes still and listens, the old radio coughing from its speakers a familiar tune destroyed by the static sound that never ceases to act as background noise. - Roberta Flack, Killing Me Softly, 1973. -, he declares after a few moments; his face darkens. - Come on, you've never heard of it? -

Eiji shakes his head, pulling the smile he always shows whenever he wants to apologize for a crime he hasn't committed. - Never. -, he admits. He turns on his left side, stealing Ash's index finger of its privileged position yet allowing him to place his whole hand over his cheek. - It seems a sweet song, but I don't understand the title. How do you...  _kill somebody softly_? -

\- It's not meant to be taken literally, dumbass. -, Ash raises his gaze. He's not really exasperated, and Eiji's not as naive as he'd like to be; he thinks about how he could explain the track's meaning to him. - It's about a woman that meets an artist that somehow manages to put into his music all the emotions she feels. Her intimacy stolen, she feels like she's slowly dying, because she's found someone she has no secrets for and that scares her. -

Eiji gets closer. The dying light of the incoming evening makes the drops of sweat on his forehead shine as they fall from under the hair towards his neck, slightly damping his flawed skin. - I don't undertand why finding someone that understands you is scary. -, he whispers. Ash doesn't even know why they're talking about it, why discuss it and finding a solution on commoun ground is so important to him. When he's with Eiji he finds matters he believed to be of extreme importance stolen of their priority, and trivial matters suddendly becoming of vital importance.

\- No, you don't get it. It's scary. -, he insists, raising on his elbows; the sheet covering their tangled bodies falls slightly down, revealing Eiji's shoulders and bare chest. - Terrifying. Expecially if it's a complete stranger we're talking about. -

Eiji smiles, yet again that silent and unapologetic “Forgive me”: the demonstration that his naivety is only a façade. He absolutely got what Ash is talking about, and he gets up on his elbows as well, mirroring him to get close again.

\- You really don't get it... -, Ash whispers, and before the last syllable leaves his lips they're against Eiji's, his body closing the short space between them and rejoining his.

  
  


It's been three hours and twelve minutes since they made love for the first time, and for three hours and twelve minutes Ash has wished for nothing but for the world around them to be destroyed, to disappear, in order to remain in that corner of heaven he managed to get for himself – that corner made up of him, Eiji, the bed under them, the light penetrating from the blinds and the radio that sometimes coughs a song, reminding them that the time keeps moving even if they don't want it.

Eiji's hands are still waves crashing into sweet caresses on his face; when Ash opens his eyes he finds him asking, once again, for permission to go on. He takes his wrists and forces him to touch him, unable to restrain, praying he understands a lesson he'll never understand.

\- You don't have to ask for permission. -, he adds for good measure. - Want you to touch me. -

Eiji tilts his head. - I don't wanna hurt you. -, he whispers, and a wicked laugh comes from Ash's throat. Eiji's face darkens. - I don't mean... phisically. -

Ash tries to answer back, but Eiji's pout forbids him from doing so: there's no filter from what he feels to what he shows, and that frightens him. - Sorry. -, he murmurs, resting his forehead against Eiji's. - Didn't mean to offend you. -

Eihi shakes his head as much as he can. - No worries. -, he whispers, and Ash knows he really doesn't have to. He knows because his hands are still on his face, because the voice telling him not to worry is sincere, and because immediately after saying so Eiji closes his eyes and goes back to kiss him.

  
  


When Ash had rested under him and made his intentions well clear Eiji had panicked, and Eiji panicking is the Eiji Ash finds to be the most entertaining. - _Dekimasen, dekimasen._ -, he had started stuttering with a tone slightly higher than usual

\- English, please. -, Ash had joked, taking advantage of his emotional state. Eiji had stared at him with a look halfway through exasperation and desperation, frustrated tears at the corners of his eyes.

\- I cant' do this. -, he had repeated in english; and now, ash Ash holds his shoulders and turns him around to have him over himself, the same fear runs in Eiji's gaze.

\- You want me to...? -, he asks, lingering on the last part of the question. - Again? -

\- I like it when you do. -

He smiles. _Sorry_. - I'm afraid I'm not that good at it. -

Even with all the abilities people credit him for, Ash has never seen himself as a good talker. If he were he'd be able to tell Eiji what he has tried, up until then, to show him in gestures: he'd tell him that he has never had sex up until that afternoon, even if popular opinion begs to differ, that he has never done it properly – that they were both virgins, and that he won't long for anybody but Eiji for the rest of his miserable existence. But he can't, and maybe Eiji, with all his fears, doesn't want to hear him.

So, instead of talking, he does what he knows best: he places a hand on Eiji's chest and lets it slide downwards, caressing his tonic body, the body he'll never get tired of watching; and Eiji shivers as he grabs both of their cocks, tensing every muscle in his body, smiling bitterly. He wishes he'd understand that his is not a mere sexual need, but the linguistic barrier between them is nothing when compared to the emotional one.

Love is a language Ash never learned how to speak.

  
  


It didn't start because Ash or Eiji had wanted it: it started because they both did. Shut in that apartment for the whole day, with only each other and the malfunctioning radio as company, yet Ash had never felt that that would've been the natural consequence of their isolation – and had never thought about a different outcome either.

Kissing Eiji had felt like the right thing to do only when he had let him think about it. There hadn't even been a real cause, no accident with Eiji finding him naked in the shower or – the thought alone is enough to disgust him – pornographic input, physical dare. Looking at each other while resting on the bed, trying to fight off the heat with inertia, and Eiji's gaze lingering a little too long over his lips: that had been enough for Ash to know that what he had wanted was what Eiji wanted as well.

That's how it is for every small thing, every habit or need or preference, and it's like that with Eiji alone – he acts as if he's known him for a long time, for his whole life. Maybe he actually does: maybe it's Eiji that brought him to life, and he's just a figment of his imagination, a fantasy that's convinced to be alive only because Eiji wishes so. He wouldn't mind being the figment of the imagination of someone so beautiful and delicate: he'd surely imagine a happy ending for him, too kind to do otherwise.

Or maybe they were lovers in a previous life. What a stupid thing to believe, what a desperate thought: it makes him smile.

\- What are you thinking about? -, Eiji asks. He moves his hips alongs Ash's, slowly, face red from shame.

Ash hesitates for a moment. He's afraid he might pass as a madman; then he remembers who he's talking to. - I wish I was just your imagination. You'd be the author of my future and I'd have nothing to be afraid of. -, he declares. Eiji stares at him dumbfounded, before smiling. This time is not an apologetic smile; this is the one smile he keeps for him and only him, the gift Ash unknowingly treasures and defense with extreme jealousy.

\- You're so beautiful. -, he moans; his right arm is placed on the pillow, barely over Ash's head, and his hand clenches the pillowcase. Eiji leverages on it to press his lips against his forehead, kissing him with a kiss more intimate than any kiss Ash has ever received. - I could never imagine someone as beautiful as you, even if I tried my best. -

\- Yes, you could. -, Ash answers. He's absent, far from that place, his eyes closed; over them there's only the everending sky, under them pure emptiness, and the only thing that mantains their status as existing beings is the unceasing movement of their bodies. - Only you could. -

  
  


It didn't hurt the first time and it doesn't hurt now, three hours and twentyseven minutes later. Eiji is so delicate and careful that he somehow manages to hurt his soul, more than he hurts his body, causing in Ash deep and intense pains that have nothing to do with the act itself. - Are you alright? -, he asks, and before Ash can even answer he kisses him, all while shivering like a leaf.

Ash has never been so afraid his whole life, which means that everything is even more than alright. There's nothing more complete, absolute and debilitating than sex, and nothing more complete, absolute and debilitating than sex with someone who can read your soul and for some absurde reason knows and understands you more than he knows and understands himself. - Keep going. -, he whispers, throwing his arms over Eiji's shoulders. - Come here. -

His wish is Eiji's command, and he puts his shame and fears aside to fall deeply into him, in the clumsiest and klutziest way, to kiss and satisfy him as Ash wants; and it shouldn't cause him any pleasure, but Ash feels the pain and laughs and is pleased altogether; he moans and Eiji stops kissing him right as a laugh emerges from their parting lips. He's going nuts. - You hurt me! -, he laughs. - Slow down! I'm not going anywhere. -

\- This is a bad idea. -, Eiji remarks, moving his hips to get out of him – suddendly making him feel way too empty. - I don't know how to do this. -

\- One can't simply “not know how to do this”, you moron. -

\- But with you... -

\- There's no “with me” nor “with you”. -, he cuts him short as sweetly as he can. He tilts his head and presses his lips against Eiji's neck. - Follow the rhythm of my breaths and let's start from the beginning, Eiji. Slowly. From the start. -

  
  


He loves each of Eiji's flaws.

Loves how sometimes he loses his control, because even when he does he somehow manages to keeps his self-imposed care, his attention: because he touches him as if he were an idol, his body a shrine. As if no one has ever desecrate him before.

Loves that he's not even that good at kissing, that he puts too much tongue into it, that he reacts to his mocking by murmuring that that's the japanese way to do it and blushes angrily.

Loves that, even with his passive soul, he somehow manages to control the situation as much as he does. He doesn't panic when Ash suddendly throws him under him and sits on his pelvis, moving his hips and grabbing him with one hand to redirect him towards himself: he doesn't even break eye contact, but he immediately adapts to the situation by grabbing Ash's hips to caress him, to worship him, welcoming him back as Ash lies down to look for his kisses.

\- I d...don't... -, he stutters; he closes his eyes and lets Ash bite his bottom lip hard enough to have him trembling.

\- What? -, Ash asks, pretending to be far more lucid than he actually is. From that position Eiji fills him better, and it's his turn to control the situation, to dictate the rhythm. Eiji adapts, and he adapts perfectly. - What's wrong? -

Eiji moans with his eyes closed, and with his eyes closed he murmurs: - I'm... I'm not doing it... because I want to. -

That sentence makes him freeze halfway through an awkard movement, his blonde hair falling down; Ash frowns: what does he mean with that? Is he only doing it to satisfy what he thinks are Ash's sexual desires? It's not like that, he yells silently; it's not what I want from you.

But then Eiji opens his eyes, and just staring at those dark irises makes Ash feel like an idiot. It's not what he means, of course it isn't. - I like you so much. -, he moans, voice cracking from pleasure and emotion. - Ash, I like you. I like you so much... -

And that's when he realizes they had never told it to each other out loud.

  
  


After that there's only silence, interrupted only by the static noise of the radio. Soon, Eiji will ask which song is playing and Ash will have to pretend he's thinking about it – as if he's able, when he's with him, to concentrate on something that isn't Eiji, Eiji cooking, writing, listening, contemplating. As if his entire existence wasn't dedicated to him.

After that there's only silence, and the soft breathing crashing on his skin, as delicate as the person emitting it. He sleeps like a little kid against him, so small yet so big – a walking oxymoron, the one incognita Ash couldn't prevent from coming into that unpredictable life of his.

He could talk to him as he sleeps, while he can't hear him; he could say: you saved my life, Eiji. I'd be dead if it wasn't for you. Are you aware you're my only weakness, right now? Do you know I'm in love with you?

That last sentence leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He could never say something like that: only thinking about makes him uncomfortable, not himself – which, maybe, is not a bad thing at all. Maybe he can not be himself, with him. Maybe he can tell him he loves him, and tie him forever to that bed, that old malfunctioning radio, that night that never comes.

But then Eiji opens his eyes and his courage fails him. He rests his head on the pillow when Eiji asks for him to do so, needs unfiltered in his sleep as he cuddles him and hugs him as if he wants to protect him.

\- You're going to be the death of me. -, he murmurs; that's one sentence he can say out loud, a statement more than a confession. Eiji doesn't understand, or maybe he does, and smiles in his sleep. His finger deepen into Ash's skin, mark him forever: on a non-physical plan, a delusion caused by sleepiness, they actually overcome the boundary of his flesh and drown in him until they grab his still beating heart – a perfect metaphor for their situation. - Killing me a little at a time. Softly. -, he murmurs; and then he gives up to sleep, his heart still in Eiji's clenched fist.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I read Banana Fish a couple of years ago and I LOVED it. It's one of my favorite manga of all times and I'll never get tired of it, as I'll never get tired of reading about Ash and Eiji's relationship and development.   
> The anime gave me the strength to go and write something about it, since I never managed to before. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing and translating it!  
> Give all the love to this anime, it deserves it!  
> See you next time,  
> -Joice


End file.
